i  -   fT- 

7  it 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


VOL.  II.]  OCTOBER  5,  1876.  [No.  18. 


PACIFIC  PETE, 


THE  PRINCE   OF    THE   REVOLVER. 


BY   JOS.    E.  BADGER,  JB. 


NEW  YORK: 

BEADLE  AND  ADAMS,  PUBLISHERS, 

98   WILLIAM   STREET. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1875,  by 

BEADLE   AND    ADAMS, 
In  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


891591 


Annex 

PS 


*      9         i 

PACIFIC  PETE, 

THE  PRINCE   OF    THE   REVOLVER. 


CHAPTER    I. 

THE  STAGE-DRIVER'S  NEWS. 

"  IT'S  a  scan'alous  fact !" 

Making  this  assertion  with  an  impressive  solemnity,  Ginger 
Dick  replaced  the  tumbler  of  greenish  glass  tipon  the  •well- 
polished  white-pine  bar,  passed  a  red,  puffy  hand  across  his 
bristling  mustache,  to  which  still  clung  drops  of  the  amber- 
hued  "  pizon,"  and  then  cast  a  glance  of  quiet  satisfaction 
around  upon  the  eager  faces  of  his  audience. 

"You  ain't  stuffin'  us,  old^nan?"  at  length  ventured  the 
barkeeper,  as  Gintrer  Dick  evidently  paused  for  an  answer  or 
an  exclamation  of  some  sort. 

"Thar — I  knowed  it!  I  said  the  boys  wouldn't  b'lieve 
sech  a  thing — nur  I  don't  blame  ye  much.  It  does  sound 
kinder  fishy,  when  a  feller  thinks  how  long  Dutch  Frank  has 
been  cock  o'  the  road.  But  the  little  cuss  called  the  turn  on 
'im  this  time." 

"  Oil  up  ag'in,  Ginger,  an'  then  le's  have  the  de-tails." 

Nowise  loth,  Giuger  Dick  helped  himself  liberally  to  the 
liquid  poison;  then,  leaning  at  ease  against  the  counter,  he 
began  his  story  with  all  the  gout  of  a  professional  yarnspin- 
ner. 

"  We  was  on  time,  to  a  dot — " 

"  No  need  to  tell  that,  Ginger,"  interrupted  a  little  red- 
faced  man,  with  well-ventilated  clothing.  "When  was  the 
'  Western  Belle '  anything  else  since  you  first  took  the  rib 
bons  ?" 

The  little  man  glanced  longingly  toward  the  blnck  bottle 
and  wiped  his  thick  lips  suggestivel}',  but  Ginger  Dick  sim 
ply  acknowledged  the  compliment  with  a  grave  nod,  and  re 
sumed. 

"  We  was  on  time,  as  I  said  afore.  Thar  was  only  four 
pilgrims — one  outside  an'  three  insides — when  we  stopped  at 
Gabbert's  fer  grub.  Thar  was  Vinegar  Sol,  Keno  Dan  and 
Jumpin'  Jack.  T'other  was  the  stranger. 


10  PACIFIC  PETE, 

"  You  know  the  time-table  'lows  forty-five  minnits  at  Gab- 
bert's,  so  the  critters  kin  pick  a  bit.  Wai,  we  grubbed — an 
then  kem  the  fun.  The  strange  pilgrim  did  it.  The  funniest 
galoot !  You'd  orter  jest  see  him  !  All  rigged  up  in  stove 
pipe  hat,  b'iled  shirt  and  shiny  boots — you  could  see  to  shave 
in  'em.  Smelt  louder'n  a  polecat — little  sweeter,  though. 
He  was  a  high-toned  snoozer,  you  bet !  But  you'll  all  see  fer 
yourselves,  sence  he  'lowed  to  locate  in  Windy  Gap. 

"  After  we'd  done  ett  our  grub,  the  next  thing  in  course 
was  a  call  on  Dutch  Frank,  at  the  bar,  fer  a  stomach-settler. 
Vinegar  Sol  he  'vited  the  stranger  to  jiue — I  reckon  he  thunk 
he'd  ketched  a  sucker.  We  nominated  whisky,  an'  while  Sol 
was  giviu'  a  sentiment,  the  strange  pilgrim  axed  fer  a  glass 
o'  water.  Dutch  Frank  opened  his  eyes,  but  filled  the  bill. 
Stranger  he  tuck  an'  made  his  grog  half-an'-half— jest  enough 
to  spile  both  ;  too  strong  fer  water  an'  too  weak  fer  pizon. 

"  You  tellers  knowed  how  Dutch  Frank  was — mighty  like 
gunpowder — easy  to  'splode,  an'  when  he  did  go  off,  some 
body  was  mighty  apt  to  git  hurt.  I  looked  fer  a  row,  in- 
stanter.  I  saw  Dutch's  eye  begin  to  snap,  his  ha'r  to  bristle, 
an'  that  big  under  lip  to  stick  out — but  you  knowed  how  he 
was  when  rubbed  ag'iust  the  grain,  or  anybody  cast  'flections 
on  his  licker. 

"Stranger  didn't  'pear  to^notice  nothiu',  but  swallered 
'bout  hafe  of  his  pizon.  Then  he  tuck  the  glass  o'  water  an' 
walked  to  the  door,  pullin'  a  little  white  handled  brush  outeii 
his  pocket — somethin'  like  a  young  ha'r-brush — an'  then,  dog 
ruy  cats,  ef  he  didn't  begin  to  wash  an'  scrub  out  his  mouth, 
a-makiu'  the  most  owdacious  faces — wuss'n  a  'possum  chaw- 
in'  on  a  green  persimmon  !  'F  he  didn't,  hope  may  die  P 

At  this  stage  of  his  story,  Ginger  Dick  paused  long  enough 
to  glance  around  upon  the  laces  of  his  audience,  and  then,  us 
if  satisfied  that  they  fully  appreciated  the  enormity  of  the 
"  strange  pilgrim's"  offense  against  the  rules  of  common  po 
liteness,  he  took  his  "  three  fingers  straight ''  before  proceed 
ing. 

"  You  know  how  quiet  Dutch  Frank  had  grown,  sence 
he'd  fit  his  way  to  the  front  rank  an'  stood  cock  o'  the  walk.   • 
Everybody  knowed   the  stuff  he  was  made  of,  an'  so  thar* 
wasn't  no  need  o'  his  showin'  his  teeth  whenever  a  human 
sneezed   cross-eyed   at  him,  like  thar  used  to  was.     But  he 
couldn't   s.tan'  this,  nohow.     'Twas   bad   enough   to   leave   a 
glass  hafe  full,  but  for  a  critter  to  go  an'  scrub  his  mouth  out, 
lo  git   sliet   of   the   taste — 'twould  'a'  made  old  Gabriel  quit 
tootin'  his  horn  an'  use  it  fer  a  club — 'twould  so  /" 

"Dutch  wasn't  no  angel — 1  reckon  that's  past  'sputiu'.  He 
lepped  over  the  counter  an'  grabbed  the  stranger,  like  he 
would  shake  'im  to  bits.  But  he  didn't — no,  not  muchly.  I 
don't  rightly  know  what  the  pilgrim  did,  nur  how  he  did 


THE  PRINCE  OP  THE  REVOLVER.  11 

it,  but  he  kinder  straightened  up — an'  then  Dutch  Frank 
wa'n't  thar  no  more!  'Stead,  he  lay  under  the  bar,  a-quiverin' 
all  over  jest  like  when  you  knock  a  hog  on  the  head  with  an 
ax. 

"The  stranger?  Click — click-!  an'  thar  he  stood,  leanin' 
ag'inst  the  door-post,  a-squintin'  at  us  over  a  pepper-box.  I 
ain't  much  of  a  coward- — ef  I  do  say  it  myself — but  at  jest 
that  peint  I  wished  I  was  a  mouse  with  a  big  knothole  Mthin 
easy  reach — I  did  so  ! 

"  '  Is  this  a  single-handed  match,  gentlemen,  or  air  I  to  play 
a  lone  hand  ag'inst  the  crowd  ?' 

"The  pilgrim  said  this,  his  voice  soundin'  clear,  but  low 
an'  soil  as  a  woman's,  an'  we  could  see  the  white  teeth  under 
the  black  ha'r  on  his  upper  lip,  jest  like  he  was  a-laughin' 
at  us.  But  Vinegar  Sol  he  spoke  out,  like  he  was  in  a  hurry: 

"  '  We  pass,  stranger— it's  you  an'  Dutch  Frank  fer  the  pot.' 

"  '  Good  enough  !  I  don't  know  what  the  fool  has  ag'in'  me, 
but  you  take  an'  set  him  on  his  pins,  an'  then  ef  he  wants 
any  change  fer  the  little  love-tap  I  lent  him,  jest  tell  him  I'm 
waii in'  outside.' 

"  A  love-tap — that's  what  Jie  called  it !  A  good  healthy 
mule  kick  wasn't  a  patchin'.  Thar  was  a  black  lump  on 
Dutch's  throat  big's  a  punkin,  an'  still  a-s^jllft' ! 

"It  tuck  nigh  a  pint  o'  whisky  to  fetch  the  critter  to. 
When  he  could  fa'rly  stand  alone,  he  shuck  us  off.  You 
should  'a'  see  him  then  !  It  made  me  creep  clean  down  to  my 
boots,  an'  I  got  ready  to  dodge.  Not  that  he  acted  so  wild 
an'  keerless  like  most  men  do.  No,  lie  was  too  mad  fer  that. 
His  face,  all  but  that  black  lump,  was  white  as  a  dead  crit 
ter's.  His  eyes  looked  like  two  holes,  with  a  fire  burnin' 
'way  back  in  'em.  Durned  ef  I  didn't  feel  my  skin  crack  an' 
shrivel  when  he  looked  at  me! 

"  He  looked  as  though  he  wanted  to  speak,  but  couldn't. 

He  opened  his  mouth,  but  we  couldn't  make  out  nothin'  but 

a  deep  growl  like — more  like  a  grizzly  b'ar  when  his  Ebenezer 

?is  riz  than  anythin'  human.     We  onderstood  what  he  wanted, 

an'  Keno  Dan  spoke  up. 

"  '  He. said  he'd  be  outside,  ef  you  wanted  any  more.  Best 
go  round  by  the  back  way,  fer  he  may  be  a-layin'  for  ye.' 

"But  Dutch  wouldn't  hear  to  reason.  He  dnrwcd,  an' 
made  jest  one  jump  out-doors  into  the  open.  Then  kern  the 
voice  o'  the  stranger,  an'  we  made  out  the  words: 

"  '  Halt !  thar — I've  got  the  drop  on  ye,  an',  the  first  step  you 
make,  afore  I'm  done  talkin',  down  ye  go,  a  dead  man!' 

"We  couldn't  wait  no  longer,  so  out  we  lepped  to  see  the 
fun.  It's  hard  to  b'lieve — I  wouldn't  'a'  b'lieved  it  myself  ef 
I'd  bin  alone,  but  the  boys  kin  sw'ar  to  it.  Thar  was  Dutch 
Frank,  standin'  like  a  stone,  his  pistol  half-raised,  jest  as 
though  he  was  under  a  charm,  like.  The  stranger  was  squatted 


18  PACIFIC    PETE, 

on  a  bucket,  drawin'  a  bead  on  Dutch,  lookin'  jest  as  cool 
an'  sweet  as  buttermilk.  He  nodded  to  us,  as  though  to  tell 
us  to  clear  the  track,  so's  to  give  'em  elbow-room,  then  spoke 
to  Dutch : 

"  '  You  pitched  onto  me,  unprovoked,  an'  I  reckon  you 
kinder  run  ag'inst  a  snag.  So  fur  we're  even.  Ef  you  want 
anything  more,  I'm  the  man  fer  your  money.  But  1  claim  to 
be  a  gentleman.  We  have  plenty  of  time;  then  le's  do  this 
job  up  in  style.  Are  you  'greeable?' 

"  Dutch  didn't  look  very  'greeable  jest  then — 'minded  me  of  . 
a  bull-dog  what'd  jest  bin  licked  like  thunder  fer  chawiu'  a 
hog — but  he  grunted  out  something  an'  the  stranger  lowered 
his  weepin.  I  looked  fer  Dutch  to  plug  him — but  he  didn't. 
You  never  see'd  sech  a  change  in  a  human  critter.  He  was 
cowed — an'  by  a  little  slender  feller  which  looked  like  Dutch 
could  take  an'  break  in  two  'crost  his  knee. 

"  '  Good  enough  !  you  ain't  sech  a  fool  as  you  look,'  an'  the 
stranger  -  laughed  out  loud;  soft  an'  clear,  it  souaded  like 
music,  'most.  '  Pick  out  one  o'  your  fri'nds  thar,  an'  tell  him 
to  step  off  the  distance  you  prefar,%an'  ax  him  to  give  the 
word.  Then  you  cut  loose  an'  shoot  your  level  best,  fer  I 
warn  you  that  Imean  business.  When  owdacious  critters 
put  their  hand^Bjyue,  the  chances  air  that  they  git  burnt — 

"  The  words  don't  sound  much  now,  when  I  speak  'em, 
but  they  cut  like  a  knife  from  his  lips.  An'  Jumpiu'  Jack 
he  said  in  my  ear  that  he'd  go  two  to  one  that  Dutch  would 
n't  pass  out  no  more  p'izon  in  this  ken  try.  I  b'lieve  Frank 
hed  some  sech  idee  himself,  he  acted  so  queer — jest  like  a 
man  in  a  dream.  But  he  axed  Vinegar  Sol  to  mark  off  the 
distance — twenty  paces — an'  you  know  what  a  straddle-bugs 
Tie  is.  The  stranger  grinned  a  little,  as  he  took  up  his  posish  ; 
I  reckon  he  thought  Dutch  was  just  a  little  mite  skeered,  but 
you  know  Dutch  was  good  fer  the  size  of  a  hat  every  twice 
at  a  hundred  yards. 

"  Vinegar  Sol  gev  the  word,  an'  Dutch  fired.  I  looked  fer 
the  pilgrim  to  drop;  but  he  didn't.  Thar  he  stood,  jest  like 
a  rock,  a-showin'  his  white  teeth  like  he  was  a-laughin'.  He 
hadn't  even  raised  his  pistol. 

"  '  Hold  your  place,  thar,  my  man  !'  he  called  out,  clear  an' 
sharp  as  a  whistle.  '  You  owe  me  a  shot,  but  I  want  to  light 
up,  fust.' 

"  It  sounds  tough,  boys,  I  know,  but  hope  may  die  ef  the 
durned  galoot  didn't  pull  out  a  see-gar  an'  strike  a  match,  jest 
as  cool  as  mush  an'  milk !" 

"  Ah,  what're  you  givin'  us  ?"  sneeringly  demanded  a  rough- 
looking,  red-haired  giant.  "  Take  us  fer  sardines?" 

"  Look  here,  Big  Tom,"  sharply  replied  Ginger  Dick,  "  I'm 
tellin'  this  yarn.  You  may  'sider  yourself  bully  o'  this  burg, 


THE   PRINCE   OF  THE    REVOLVER.  13 

but  you  ain't  got  no  call  to  crow  over  rae.  Whatever  I  say 
I  kin  back  up  in  any  way  you  durn  please.  1  saw  tliis  little 
a'fair,  an'  so  did  three  other  men,  any  one  on  'em  as  good  or 
better  men  then  you  dar'  be — " 

At  this  juncture,  when  sharp  words  bade  fair  to  culminate 
in  still  sharper  arguments,  according  to  the  prevailing  fash 
ion,  friends  interposed  to  restore  peace;  not  that  they  had 
any  conscientious  scruples  against  a  little  by-play  between 
friends  with  bullets  or  steel,  but  they  didn't  care  to  lose  the 
finale  of  Ginger  Dick's  story.  A  driuk  around  healed  all 
outward  differences,  and  then  the  stage-driver  resumed  his 
narrative. 

"  I  said  the  stranger  lit  a  match,  but  he  didn't  light  his  see- 
gar  jest  then.  Dutch  Frank  was  jest  more'n  hot,  to  see  how 
he  was  bein'  played  with,  an'  give  a  yell  you  could  'a'  hearn 
ten  mile  as  he  lepped  forward,  a-shootin'  at  every  jump. 
The  stranger  dropped  the  match,  flung  out  his  arm  an'  fired. 
Durned  ef  I  b'lieve  he  could  'a'  took  aim,  but  Dutch  dropped 
his  weepin  with  a  yell.  The  bullet  had  mashed  his  right 
hand  all  to  pieces. 

"  The  little  feller  cocked  his  pepper-box  ag'in,  but  Dutch 
Frank  had  got  his  fill,  an'  turned  tail,  runuin'  like  a  skeered 
jack-rabbit,  a-yellin'  at  every  jump. 

"  'Halt !'  yelled  the  stranger  ag'in.  '  Ef  you  pass  the  sage- 
bush  yonder,  I'll  ping  ye!' 

"  I  don't  reckon  Dutch  hearn  him ;  anyway  he  couldn't 
hev  understood  what  he  said,  fer  he  jest  more'n  humped  him 
self.  The  sage-bush  was  over  a  hundred  yards  away,  an'  I'd 
V  bet  long  odds  the  little  feller  couldn't  'a'  hit  a  runnin' 
mark  that  fur  off.  But  he  did.  The  minnit  Dutch  reached 
the  line,  he  pulled  trigger,  an'  throwed  his  meat  cold — tuck 
him  chug  in  the  middle  o'  his  head. 

"  '  Gentlemen,'  he  said,  turning  to  us,  'gentlemen,  air  you 
satisfied  ?  Ef  not,  now  I've  got  my  hand  in,  I'll  be  most 
happy  to  obleege  any  or  all  o'  ye — one  at  a  time.' 

"  We  was  satisfied — 'most  anybody  'd  'a'  bin  the  same,  a'ter 
seein'  the  grit  an'  the  way  he  handled  his  pepper-box — an' 
we  told  him  so,  too.  He  jest  showed  his  teeth  a  little  an' 
bowed,  an'  then,  while  we  were  lookin'  after  what  was  left  of 
Dutch  Frank,  he  loaded  his  pistol  an'  finished  lightin'  his 
see-gar.  Then  he  'vited  us  to  jine  him  in  a  drink,  which  we 
did.  The  pizon  didn't  taste  quite  as  good  as  this,  but  we  didn't 
keer  about  'msin'  jest  then." 

The  patrons  of  the  "  Hole  in  the  Wall "  earnestly  discussed 
the  case  in  all  its  bearings,  paying  due  attention  to  the  black 
bottle,  until  the  little  red- faced  man  grew  still  more  rosy,  his 
eyes  more  fishy,  and  his  tongue  as  nimble  as  those  of  his 
companions.  Nor  was  the  effect  less  noticeable  upou  Big 
Tom  Noxon. 


14  PACIFIC    PETE, 

This  man  had  a  cheap-won  reputation  of  being  a  veritable 
fire-eater,  and  had,  in  reality,  been  engaged  in  one  or  two 
street-fights  since  Windy  Gap  leaped  into  existence,  through 
which  he  had  passed  creditably — as  the  times  went.  But  his 
own  tongue  was  his  loudest  herald. 

"I'd  like  to  see  this  wonderful  critter  o'  your'n,  Ginger 
Dick,"  he  quoth,  with  a  sounding  oath.  "I'll  bet  two  to  one 
that  he  couldn't  run  'round  here  Mthout  gittin'  picked  up." 

"  Who'd  do  it  ?"  quickly  returned  the  stage-driver. 

"You  see  me?    I  reckon  I  could  chaw  him  right  up — " 

"  I've  got  money  that  says  you'd  take  water  quicker'n 
Dutch  Frank  did.  Put  up  or  shut  up  !"  and  Ginger  Dick 
produced  a  heavy  buck-skin  bag  of  gold-dust. 

"  But  whar's  your  man — show  me  your  man  fust." 

"  I  kin  do  that  easy.  I  don't  reckon  he'll  be  hard  to  find. 
Kiver  the  dust,  or  own  up  that  you  crawfish  !" 

"  Crawfish  nothiu' !"  and  Noxon  drew  out  a  handful  of 
gold-pieces,  which  the  bar-keeper  quickly  received,  after  weigh 
ing  out  an  equal  amount  of  the  dust. 

"  I  don't  mind  tellin' you  now,  Big  Tom,  that  the  strange 
pilgrim  is  in  this  'ere  burg,  where  he  'lows  to  locate.  Any 
how,  that's  what  he  told  me.  You  mind — you're  to  pick 
a  fuss  with  him,  chaw  him  up  or  make  him  take  water — 
or  the  stakes  are  mine.  No  foolin' —  Talk  o'  the  devil ! 
Thar  comes  the  very  cuss  now!"  added  Ginger  Dick,  in  a  whis 
per. 

The  next  moment  a  light  footstep  was  heard,  and  then  the 
"  strange  pilgrim  "  entered  the  Hole  in  the  Wall. 


CHAPTER   II. 

BEAUTY    IN    DISTRESS. 

"  MY  last  match — and  a  mighty  poor  excuse  for  one,  too. 
If  it  goes  out — bah  !  The  same  old  luck  !  Well,  it's  good-by 
smoke  until  the  old  man  comes,  I  suppose." 

With  these  words — a  mixture  of  discontent  and  philosophic 
coolness — the  young  man  resumed  his  recumbent  attitude  in 
the- grateful  shadow  cast  by  the  gnarled  and  twisted  red-wood, 
yawning  lazily. 

His  surroundings  were  not  very  romantic.  Upon  every 
hand  rose  the  rocky  hills,  gray  and  forbidding,  dotted  here 
and  there  with  a  "  fired "  shrub,  or  covered  with  a  scanty 
growth  of  shriveled  grass  and  wild  oats.  Many  of  the  rocks 
•were  fire-blackened.  Wherever  the  pickax  or  long-handled 


THE  PRINCE  OF  THE  REVOLVES.  15 

shovel  could  make  an  impression,  there  the  dirt  and  gravel 
lay  in  unsightly  heaps,  surrounding  many  an  ugly  hole  and 
pit.  It  was  as  though  an  army  of  gigantic  moles  or  gophers 
had  been  at  work.  Not  very  romantic,  certainly ;  and  yet 
DICK'S  POCKET  had  found  birth  in  a  halo  of  romance. 

The  story  was  a  peculiar  one,  and  a  graver  shade  rested 
upon  the  young  man's  face  as  he  glanced  around  and  recalled 
the  story  as  it  had  first  met  his  ears,  beside  the  cheering  camp- 
fire,  after  a  hard  day's  work  in  the  gulch. 

Little  did  he  dream  what  a  terrible  interest  that  story  was" 
to  have  for  him  and  his,  in  the  time  to  come! 

In  the  year  '50,  few  men  were  more  generally  known 
throughout  the  gold  mines  than  a  tall,  stately  man  who  bore 
the  singular  sobriquet — "  Gospel  Dick."  The  title  was  hon 
estly  earned.  Through  the  week  he  labored  faithfully  at 
gold-digging,  aircl  was  accounted  an  unusually  fortunate  man. 
But  when  the  Sabbath  came,  Gospel  Dick  substituted  a  Bible 
for  a  pick,  and  sought  to  in'terest  his  rough  companions  in 
the  Divine  Word.  Though  he  reaped  more  ridicule  than 
profit,  he  persisted,  passing  from  pi  .ce  to  place,  until  his  name 
was  familiar  throughout  the  three  grand  gold  regions  of  Cali 
fornia  :  the  Eastern  Range,  the  Middle  Placers,  and  the  Val 
ley  Mines ;  and  he  won  the  respect  of  all,  for  they  could  but 
see  that  he  was  thoroughly  in  earnest  and  consistent  in  all  his 
dealings. 

One  Sabbath  afternoon  he  fairly  electrified  his  rough 
hearers  by  a  sermon  of  wonderful  power  and  eloquence. 
And  then  he  bade  them  farewell.  He  said  that  he  had  made 
a  fortune  by  diggin'g,  and  was  about  to  return  to  his  distant 
home,  to  rescue  his  family  from  want. 

That  was  Gospel  Dick's  last  sermon.  When  day  dawned, 
he  was  found  lifeless — well-nigh  dead,  bleeding  from  a  dozen 
wounds  ;  and  his  rich  store  of  gold  was  gone. 

The  excitement  was  intense.  Two  men  were  lynched,  on 
suspicion;  but  the  gold  was  never  found.  Gospel  Dick  gradu 
ally  recovered  his  strength,  but  his  mind  was  a  blank.  He 
had  only  one  idea  :  that  of  searching  for  his  lost  fortune. 

One  night  he  disappeared,  and  it  was  found  that  he  had 
stolen  a  rifle,  revolver  and  stout  knife,  together  with  the 
necessary  ammunition.  No  one  could  afford  time  to  search 
for  him,  and  as  the  months  passed  on,  Gospel  Dick  was  al 
most  forgotten.  Then  his  memory  was  suddenly  recalled. 

Two  prospectors  came  suddenly  upon  a  strangely-impressive 
scene.  In  a  basin-like  valley  lay  two  figures — that  of  a  man 
and  a  huge  cinnanon  bear,  locked  in  a  grapple  that  even 
death  had  not  separated.  The  fight  must  have  been  a  furi 
ous  and  protracted  one,  for  the  ground  was  scarred  and  torn 
up  for  yards  around. 

A  momentary  gleam  of  pity  for  the  unfortunate  hunter — 


16  PACIFIC     PETE, 

then  a  wild  yell  of  joy !  The  bodies  were  lying  literally  upon 
a  golden  bed — nuargets  of  almost  pure  gold  bad  been  torn 
from  their  resting-phices  and  cast  into  the  sunlight  by  the 
furiously  trampling-feet.  The  death-struggle  had  revealed  a 
wonderfully  rich  deposit  of  gold — a  veritable  "  pocket." 

Hence  came  the  name — Dick's  Pocket — for  the  unfortunate 
was  indeed  the  mad  preacher. 

The  tidings  soon  spread — but  not  before  tbe  two  men  had 
secured  a  rich  fortune  apiece.  Miners  flocked  to  the  "  rich 
find,"  but  numbers  soon  exhausted  the  golden  store,  though 
not  before  Windy  Gap  was  built  upon  the  nearest  available 
piece  of  ground. 

Another  discovery  had  been  made.  Gospel  Dick  had  been 
sliol  with  a  rifle-bullet  through  the  back  of  his  skull.  Experts  de 
clared  that  the  shot,  must  have  produced  instant  death.  Who, 
then,  was  the  murderer — the  bear — or — ? 

The  enigma  had  never  been  solved. 

The  young  man  was  aroused  from  his  reverie  by  the  sound 
of  a  light  footfall,  and  quickly  raised  his  head  ;  but  the  words 
that  rose  to  his  lips  were  never  uttered.  His  eyes  dilated  with 
astonishment,  and  an  expression  of  ludicrous  wonder  over 
spread  his  bronzed  face. 

In  an  attitude  of  startled  grace,  beside  a  fire-scarred  bowl 
der,  stood  a  young  woman,  who  had  evidently  just  observed 
the  young  miner.  In  her  hand  was  held  a  light,  richly  orna 
mented  rifle,  its  muzzle  thrown  forward,  her  hand  upon  the 
lock. 

"  An  angel  in  Dick's  Pocket !" 

The  ridiculous  exclamation  fell  almost  unconsciously  from 
the  miner's  lips,  nor  did  he  realize  how  odd  it  sounded  until 
a  clear,  mellow  laugh  broke  from  the  young  woman.  Then, 
flushing  deeply,  he  sprung  to  his  feet,  and  uncovered  his 
head. 

"  Excuse  me,  lady — I  thought  I  was  dreaming.  You  came 
so  silently,  and  the  sight  of  a  woman — " 

"I  can  readily  believe  that,  sir,"  said  the  girl — for  she 
seemed  still  in  her  teems — lowering  her  weapon,  and  smil 
ing  brightly;  "I  can  readily  believe  that,  from  the  way  you 
started.  Only — I  don't  feel  as  though  I  was  in  anybody's 
pocket."  » 

"  Yet  you  are — in  Dick's  Pocket,"  retorted  the  young  miner, 
joining  in  her  laughter ;  and  it  was  remarkable  upon  what  an 
easy  footing  that  blundering  exclamation  had  put  them. 

"I  believe  I  understand  you  now — and  I'm  glad  to  meet 
with  some  one  who  knows  where  I  am,  for  I've  been  trying  to 
find  out  that  enigma  this  two  hours." 

"  You  don't  mean  that  you  have  Ir.st  your  way?" 

"I  fear  so — but  my  friends  must  be  near,"  she  quickly  add 
ed,  with  a  half-doubting  glance  into  his  face. 


THE  PRINCE  OP  THE  REVOLVER.  17 

"  I  know  that  I  am  looking  rather  rough,  just  now,  lady," 
replied  the  jroung  man,  his  face  flushing  as  he  rightly  inter 
preted  her  hesitation.  "  Still,  I  hope  I  am  a  gentleman.  If  I 
can  aid  you  in  any  way,  I  shall  be  happy  to  do  so,  to  the  best 
of  my  ability.  I  am  the  last  man  in  the  world  to  thrust  my 
service  upon  anybody." 

"  I  believe  you,  sir,"  frankly  replied  the  maiden,  extend 
ing  her  little  brown  hand.  "  My  hesitation  was  needless, 
feel  assured — and  yet,  in  this  wild  country,  where  so  man 
lawless  characters  are  to  be  met  with,  it  was  natural  enougl 
I  do  need  your  assistance,  for  I  must  confess  that  I  haven 
the  ghost  of  an  idea  of  my  whereabouts." 

"  I  am  pretty  well  acquainted  with  this  section,  and  will 
gladly  be  your  guide.  You  came  from  Windy  Gap?" 

"  Some  relation  to  Dick's  Pocket  ?  But  seriously,  I  never 
heard  the  name  before." 

"  I  spoke  of  the  town  below.  I  supposed  you  were  stop- 
ying  there,  as  it  is  the  only  settlement  within  miles  of  this 
spot." 

"  No— we  camped  in  a  valley,  father  and  I.  There  is  a 
stream  running  through  it,  and  just  above  us  a  good-sized 
waterfall.  If  you  have  ever  been  there,  you  must  recollect 
the  place.  There  is  a  large  rock,  with  a  tree  growing  upon 
it,  that  cuts  the  sheet  of  water  in  two  parts.  It  stands  right 
on  the  edge  of  the  ledge  over  which  the  water  leaps." 

"I  know  the  place — but  you  have  wandered  a  good  dis 
tance.  The  valley  is  five  miles  from  here,  in  a  direct  line — 
twice  that  far  by  the  route  you  must  have  come." 

"  I  am  a  good  walker,  and  wandered  a  good  distance  before 
I  realized  that  I  was  lost.  Then  I  ran  a  good  deal — " 

"  In  just  the  contrary  direction,  naturally — one  always 
does,"  laughed  the  young  miner.  "  Well,  it  was  a  fortunate 
mistake  for  me — no,  don't  misunderstand  me,"  he  added, 
hastily.  "  I  am  essentially  a  home  body,  was  brought  up 
with  two  sisters  and  innumerable  girl  cousins.  Yet  for  near 
ly  two  j^ears  that  I  have  been  at  the  mines,  I  have  not  set 
eyes  upon  a  lady.  Women  have  I  seen,  but  none  that  could  re 
mind  me  of  home — until  to-day.  Can  you  understand  this 
feeling?  Let  me  make  a  confession.  Last  year  I  was  min 
ing  near  fifty  miles  from  here.  I  heard  some  of  the  men  talk 
ing  about  a  fair  and  beautiful  lady  who  had  just  arrived  at 
Windy  Gap— the  wile  of  the  hotel-keeper.  I  left  my  work 
and  tramped  clean  here,  for  nothing  else  but  to  look  upon  a 
woman's  face  once  more.  But  I  didn't  stay  an  hour.  The 
fine  lady  was  a  painted,  bold-faced,  loud-talking  being.  I 
left  Windy  G;ip  that  night.  But  now— the  sight  of  your  face 
has  put  new  life  into  me,  and  I  feel  like  a  new  man.  It  is 
like  a  glimpse  of  home.  But — you  are  not  offended  with  me 
for  speaking  so  bluntly?" 


18  PACIFIC    PETE, 

"  No,"  frankly  replied  the  maiden,  extending  her  hand. 
"It  is  a  compliment  any  one  might  be  proud  of — and  I'm  not 
afraid  to  trust  you  now.1'1 

"  Thanks — I  shall  never  give  you  cause  to  regret  your  con 
fidence.  But — I've  become  a  perfect  bore!  May  I  introduce 
myself?  Mark  Austin,  from  St.  Louis." 

"  And  I'm  Edna  Brand.  Since  all  the  preliminaries  are 
settled,  and  you  are  so  kind,  hadn't  we  better  be  starting  ?  I 
fear  father  will  grow  uneasy." 

"I  am  at  your  service,  Miss  Edna — or  should  I  say  madam  ?" 

"  No — I  am  not  married." 

"  I'm  glad  of  that !"  impulsively  exclaimed  Mark. 

"  Why  so?"  quickly  asked  Edna,  her  cheek  flushing  slightly. 

"That's  a  leading  question,"  replied  Austin,  in  a  grave  tone, 
which,  however,  was  belied  by  the  mischievous  twinkle  in  his 
hazel  eye;  "and  I  might  refuse  to  criminate  myself.  But  you 
will  not  think  me  an  impudent  fellow,  if — " 

"  I  might — so  we'd  best  keep  on  the  safe  side,  and  let  the 
subject  rest.  You  said  there  were  two  ways  of  reaching  our 
camp;  which  one  do  you  advise?" 

Austin  hesitated  fora  moment,  which,  after  all,  was  only 
natural.  While  one  trail  was  much  the  longer  of  the  two,  the 
other  was  more  rugged  and  would  offer  more  chances  of  assist 
ing  the  progress  of  his  lair  acquaintance.  The  advantages 
were  about  evenly  balanced,  and  so,  like  a  true  guide,  he  made 
an  impartial  statement  of  the  facts. 

"  We  will  take  the  nearest  trail,  then,"  decided  Edna. 

"  Very  good — allow  me,"  and  Mark  took  possession  of  the 
light  rifle.  "  You  will  find  it  difficult  traveling  in  places,  and 
may  need  the  use  of  both  your  hands." 

"  Or  rather,"  laughed  Edna,  with  a  mischievous  glance, 
"  you  are  afraid  we  may  meet  somebody  and  prefer  to  carry 
the  rifle,  lest  they  think  you  a  captive  to  my  bow  and  spear." 

"  There's  many  a  true  word  spoken  in  jest,  and  this  play 
thing  is  not  your  most  effective  weapon — " 

"Bosh!  excuse  me,  but  really  I  couldn't  help  it.  If  you 
could  only  have  seen  your  face  then,  as  you  uttered  that 
flowery  speech.  It  looked  as  though  you  hadn't  a  friend  in 
the  world,  instead  of  having  found  a  new  one  to  day.  But,  a 
truce  to  this  nonsense,  or  we'll  get  to  quarreling,  and  then  I 
fear  I'd  find  myself  minus  a  guide.  Come,  now  we  have  a  bit 
of  fair  ground  before  us,  tell  me  something  about  yourself.  Is 
not  that  the  rule  when  friends  meet?" 

"  Then  we  are  to  be  friends — real  friends  ?" 

"  I  trust  so — for  to  day,  at,  least." 

"No  longer  than  to-day?"  and  there  was  genuine  regret  in 
the  young  miner's  tone. 

"It  may  be  so — I  fear  it  will.  You  will  not  misunderstand 
me.  I  never  knew  but  one  Mend,  in  whom  I  could  confide 


THE  PRINCE  OP  THE  REVOLVER.  19 

my  little  pleasures  and  disappointments;  and  she  is  dead  now. 
I  believe  you  would  be  a  true,  faithful  friend,  but  it  is  not 
likely  tbat  we  will  ever  meet  again.  I  am  here  to-day — there 
to-morrow.  I  have  no  choice  but  my  father's  will,  and  he  is 
ntver  contented  long  in  one  place.  We  may  resume  our  jour 
ney  to-morrow." 

"  If  you  say  that  it  will  not  be  unpleasant  to  you,  we  will 
meet  again,  if  not  here,  then  wherever  you  may  go.  I  have 
no  ties  to  bind  me  to  one  place — " 

"No — please  forget  what  I  said,  it  was  very  foolish,  but 
mine  has  been  a  strange  life,  and  no  one  has  ever  taught  me 
to  vail  my  real  •tlwughts.  We  will  part  as  good  friends,  but 
you  must  promise  not  to  carry  out  your  thought.  Father  is 
stern  and  suspicions  toward  all  strangers — he  has  been  deceived 
and  wronged  so  often  that  he  looks  upon  every  unknown  per 
son  as  a  secret  enemy — and  it  would  be  very  unpleasant  for  us 
all.  You  promise  not  to  think  of  following  us?" 

"No — because  I'd  only  break  the  pledge,  and  I  won't  even 
try  to  deceive  you.  You  called  me  friend — I  will  prove  my 
self  worthy  1  he  name,  if  I  live.  But  you  mustn't  ask  such  a 
promise  of  me.  I  like  you — I  want  you  to  like  me ;  but  how 
can  I  hat  come  aboiit  if  we  are  to  part  now,  never  again  to 
meet?" 

"  I  thought.it  had  come  about  already,"  retorted  Edna,  with 
a  little  laugh,  but  he'r  face  was  averted.  "  You  say  that  you 
like  me — I'm  not  ashamed  to  confess  the  same." 

"But — I  meant  something  more — " 

"  See!  '  the  jumping-off  place  !'  "  quickly  interposed  Edna, 
as  they  came  upon  an  abrupt  descent,  almost  precipice.  "I'm 
afraid  you  overrated  your  skill  as  a  guide." 

"No — this  is  the  only  point  where  we  can  cross  the  canon. 
Allow  me — "  and  Austin  gently  lowered  her  to  a  narrow  ledge 
some  six  or  seven  feet  below. 

Scarcely  had  he  released  his  grasp,  when  Edna  uttered  a 
faint  cry  and  sprung  along  the  ledge.  At  the  same  moment 
Mark  heard  aloud  snort,  followed  by  the  peculiar  sniff  that  is 
made  by  only  one  animal.  Edna,  in  her  sudden  affright,  had 
passed  beyond  his  reach,  else  he  might  have  drawn  her  up  out 
of  danger.  Realizing  this,  he  dropped  boldly  to  the  ledge, 
holding  the  rifle  ready  for  use. 

Squatting  upon  the  narrow  shelf  of  rock,  scarce  twenty  feet 
distant,  was  a  huge  cinnamon  bear,  its  wicked  eyes  glowing, 
its  yellow  fangs  showing  between  the  red,  dripping  lips. 

"Run  along  the  ledge,  Edna — quick!  I  will  keep  him 
back." 

He  had  no  time  for  more,  nor  to  see  that  he  was  obeyed. 
Angry  at  having  its  rest  disturbed,  the  bear  moved  forward, 
gro\vling  fiercely  and  showing  Us  teeth.  A  struggle,  with  such 
scant  foothold,  could  scarce  be  otherwise  than  fatal;  but  the 


20  PACIFIC  PETE, 

young  miner  had  no  choice.  He  leveled  his  rifle  and  fired. 
But  at  the  same  instant  the  bear  flung  up  its  head,  and  instead 
of  piercing  its  eye,  the  bullet  merely  shattered  its  lower  jaw. 

Austin  dropped  the  rifle  and  drew  his  revolver.  He  only 
had  time  for  one  snap-shot,  then  the  bear  was  upon  him. 
Snarling  fiercely,  maddened  with  the  pain  of  its  double  wound 
the  brute  made  a  furious  stroke  at  the  young  miner,  but  fortu 
nately  overreached  his  aim.  Struck  with  the  stout  forearm, 
(instead  of  the  terrible  claws,  Mark  was  flung  agaiust  the  per 
pendicular  rock  with  stunning  force.  Yet  he  retained  consci 
ousness  enough  to  cock  and  thrust  his  revolver  forward  until 
its  muzzle  was  buried  in  the  loose,  shaggy  hide.  At  the  re 
port,  the  beast  gave  a  wild  roar  of  pain,  then  its  powerful 
arms  closed  upon  the  body  of  the  miner  in  a  terrible  grip. 
With  a  gasping,  gurgling  cry,  Mark  flung  himself  heavily  for 
ward,  and  they  fell  over  the  ledge — down — downl 


CHAPTER   III. 

"  OLD  BUSENESa" 

"  UP  a  stump — that's  me  I  A  critter  that's  follered  so  many 
false  trails  he's  got  so  'nation  bad  mixed  up  that  he  don't  know 
his  head  from  a  hole  in  the  ground — that's  me,  ag'in !  Why 
cain't  a  feller  lay  down  and  go  to  sleep  an'  wake  up  to  find 
things  all  onsnarled  ready  to  his  hand?  Sugar  in  a  rag! 
wouldn't  that  be  gee-licious,  though  ?  F'r  instuuce :  here's  me, 
little  Old  Business,  in  a  minnit. 

"  I  struck  the  Eastern  Range,  as  they  call  it.  I  axed  fer  my 
man.  Nobody  knowed  'im — said  so,  anyhow.  I  scraped 
'quaintance  with  everybody,  his  wife,  cook  an'  poodle-dog.  I 
drunk  rivers  o'  rye,  oceans  o'  Bourbon,  chewed  up  hull  cords 
o' black  navy  an'  niggerhead ;  hugger-muggered  with  buggy 
Injuns,  an'  hugged  thar  squaws;  ett  rats  an'  dogs  wi'  China 
people;  let  big,  black-mustached  fellers  turn  my  pockets  out 
side  in  with  their  poker,  moute — 'you  caiu't  tell  which  is  the 
woman-keerd  ' — an' all  sich  little 'musements;  did  everythin' 
but  chaw  head-bugs  an'  horn-toads  with  Piutes.  An'  what'd 
I  make  by  it?  Echo  sais  in  mournful  'cents — not  a  durned 
thing! 

"  Then  1  tuck  in  the  Middle  Placers.  Twas  the  same  thing 
thar,  only  more  so.  Nobody  didn't  know  nothin' — 'cept  one 
feller.  He  knowed  too  pesky  much.  He  give  me  d'r*  ctions. 
I  follered  'em.  Traipsed  forty  mile — clum  a  hill  that  was  so 
high  the  moon  used  to  bump  ag'inst  its  top  every  time  it  tried 


THE  PRINCE   OP  THE  REVOLVER.  21 

to  pass  by.  Found  the  big  rock — knocked — nobody  didn't 
come.  Knocked  ag'in — same  feller  came  what  didn't  come 
afore.  Got  mad — knocked  the  rock  over.  'Twas  all  a  tlog- 
goned  lie.  Nobody'd  never  lived  thar.  That  made  me  red- 
hot!  Went  back — chawed  the  feller's  ear.  Then  tuck  a  fresh 
start. 

"  Struck  the  Valley  Mines — an'  hyar  I  am,  a  thousan'  miles 
from  bed  rock,  nigh  as  I  kin  tell.  Not  the  fust  sign  o'  a  clue. 
Reckon  I'll  hev  to  try  the  moon  next — mebbe  he's  tuck  a 
v'y'ge  thar — be  jest  my  luck — 'twould  so!"- 

In  a  narrow  valley — almost  canon — was  seated  the  man 
from  whose  lips,  as  if  unconsciously,  fell  this  peculiar  solilo 
quy.  Leaning  against  the  perpendicular  rock,  clasping  both 
knees  with  his  hands,  pulling  at  a  black,  stumpy  clay  pipe, 
in  short,  decisive  whiffs,  an  expression  of  comical  disgust 
rested  upon  the  old  man's  features,  in  perfect  keeping  with 
his  speech. 

Of  his  figure,  little  could  be  told,  he  was  so  doubled  up. 
A  greasy  skin  cap — round  as  a  ball — covered  his  head.  From 
beneath  it  hung  a  shaggy  mat  of  dingy  gray  hair,  mingling 
with  a  long,  heavy  beard,  while  at  the  sides,  but  plentifully 
besprinkled  in  front  with  tobacco-juice.  His  eyes  were  ra 
ther  small,  but  keen  and  bright  as  diamonds.  His  garb  was 
a  rude  mixture  of  skin  and  woolen,  dirty  and  greasy,  patched 
and  ragged.  A  short,  heavy  rifle  leaned  against  his  shoul 
der;  a  long  knife  and  two  revolvers  were  at  his  waist.  The 
weapons  at  least  had  not  been  neglected,  and  were  evidently 
well  worth  the  care  bestowed  upon  them. 

Suddenly  his  attitude  changed.  His  eyes  dilated,  his  head 
was  lifted  and  the  pipe  lay  idly  between  his  teeth.  A  faint 
murmur  as  of  human  voices  in  conversation  came  to  his  ears, 
though  he  was  unable  to  distinguish  the  words. 

Then  came  other  sounds;  a  cry  of  terror,  followed  by  an 
other  of  warning ;  several  shots,  fierce  growls  and  snarling 
cries;  and  then  a  dark  mass  shot  swiftly  before  his  eyes, 
falling  upon  the  moss-covered  rocks  with  a  dull,  sickening 
thud. 

"  Butter  in  a  gourd!  that's  a  nice  way  to  git  down-sta'rs! 
Hornets  up  a  trowsers  leg — let  up  thar,  you  overgrown  galoot  1 
Don't  ye  know  better — won't,  eh  ?  Then  hyar  goes  fer  your 
meat-house — up  to  Green  river  !" 

A  man  and  bear,  locked  in  a  death-grapple,  had  fallen  into 
the  canon  or  defile,  from  the  ledge  above.  Though  the  fall 
had  been  down  full  thirty  feet,  and  the  bear  had  been  under 
most  when  the  bottom  was  reached,  the  shock  appeared  to 
have  affected  it  but  very  slightly,  if  at  all.  Whirling  over, 
it  sought  to  tear  the  throat  of  its  prey  ;  but  its  under  jaw  was 
useless. 

Springing  forward,  the  hunter  attacked  the  furious  beast, 


